89 AC

  Red Keep, 3 months later, Training Ground

  The training yard echoed with the sharp clatter of wooden swords. Eight-year-old Daemon advanced with relentless energy, his practice blade striking hard against his younger brother's guard. Five-year-old Aegon staggered back, his arms trembling from the effort of blocking.

  "Keep your stance wider," called Prince Baelon from the sidelines. The Spring Prince leaned against a wooden post, his keen eyes tracking every movement. "Aegon, don't let him push you around."

  Aegon adjusted his footing just in time to deflect another strike. The impact sent a jolt up his arms. He knew he couldn't match Daemon's strength or skill yet, but he'd learned how to play this game. With calculated clumsiness, he let his next parry fall short, allowing Daemon's sword to knock his own from his grip. The wooden blade clattered across the dirt as Aegon tumbled backward, landing hard on his rear.

  Daemon whooped, thrusting his practice sword skyward. "Did you see that, Father? I disarmed him again!"

  Baelon chuckled, pushing off from the post. "I saw. Though I also saw Aegon leave himself open on purpose." He walked over and ruffled both boys' hair. "You're improving, Daemon, but don't let victory make you careless."

  Aegon blinked up at his father with wide, innocent eyes. "I tried my best."

  "I know you did." Baelon helped him up, brushing dirt from his tunic. "You'll grow stronger soon enough."

  Daemon puffed out his chest. "I could teach him better if he'd stop falling down all the time."

  "Patience, son. He's half your age." Baelon glanced toward the keep where a messenger waited anxiously. "I must attend to court matters. Clean up and mind your septa when she comes for your lessons."

  As soon as their father disappeared into the keep, Daemon's triumphant posture slumped. He kicked at the dirt. "Boring. I wanted to show him the new move Ser Clement taught me."

  Aegon sat on a nearby bench, breathing heavily as maids rushed forward with damp cloths to wipe his face and hands. One offered him a cup of water, which he accepted gratefully.

  "You're getting better," Daemon admitted grudgingly, plopping down beside him. "For a little runt."

  Aegon took the insult without reaction, watching as servants gathered the training equipment. The afternoon sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows across the yard. In a month, the last of winter's chill would fade entirely, giving way to spring's warmth.

  "You should've seen the strike I wanted to show Father," Daemon continued, swinging an imaginary sword. "It would've knocked you clear across the yard."

  Aegon nodded along. "Maybe tomorrow."

  Daemon scowled. "Tomorrow's history lessons with that dusty old maester." He mimed stabbing himself with his pretend sword. "Death would be kinder."

  One of the maids stifled a laugh, quickly covering her mouth when Daemon glared.

  Aegon finished his drink and handed the cup back. "We could practice more now if you want. Before the septa comes."

  For a moment, Daemon looked tempted. Then he shook his head. "What's the point without Father watching?" He flopped onto his back on the bench, arms dangling over the sides. "Besides, you're terrible."

  "I'm five."

  "That's no excuse. I was beating boys twice my age when I was five."

  Aegon didn't bother pointing out that he'd been holding back precisely to feed Daemon's ego. Instead, he watched a flock of birds circle one of the towers. "Do you think Father will take us hawking when spring comes?"

  Daemon perked up slightly. "If we pester him enough. Though you'll probably just fall off your horse."

  "I've been practicing riding."

  "Practicing how? On a pony tied to a post?" Daemon snorted. "Real riding means galloping through the woods, jumping streams—"

  "and getting thrown into mud puddles," Aegon finished, recalling one of Daemon's more spectacular falls last autumn.

  Daemon sat up sharply. "That was one time! And the ground was slippery!"

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  Aegon let a small smile show. "Looked like you were trying to swim in it."

  The maids turned away, shoulders shaking silently as Daemon's face reddened. "You're lucky you're too small to punch properly."

  Before the argument could continue, a stern voice called from the archway. "Prince Daemon, Prince Aegon. Your lessons await." The septa stood with arms crossed, her expression leaving no room for negotiation.

  Daemon groaned loudly but stood. "This is torture. Actual torture."

  Aegon slid off the bench, wincing as his sore muscles protested. He'd have to convince the maids to draw him a hot bath later.

  Aegon listened with half an ear, already planning how to "accidentally" best Daemon in their next sparring session, just enough to keep things interesting, but not enough to bruise his brother's pride. After all, he had years before his real strength would show. For now, playing the weak little brother served his purposes just fine.

  After the King's party returned to King's Landing, Aegon's daily EXP gains stabilized between 120-130. The increased interactions with high-ranking courtiers and royal family members boosted his progression significantly. His [Gluttonous Child] class had consumed 1520 EXP to reach level 7, but he deliberately halted further advancement when he noticed the unwanted side effects.

  This is getting problematic.

  Prince Baelon had easily agreed to let him join Daemon's training sessions after Aegon complained, "Father, I'm getting too fat from all the feasts." The excuse worked perfectly - Baelon's amused chuckle still rang in his ears. But the real issue wasn't just weight gain.

  The [Strong Digestion] trait's Constitution bonus had accelerated his growth alarmingly. At barely five years old, he already stood nearly as tall as eight-year-old Daemon. If this continued unchecked, he'd probably become a fat giant.

  Three months of proper training had added +0.3 to his [STR] , now 2.8, but his [CON] had climbed to 3.7 - too fast, even with adjusted eating habits.

  Their swords met with a solid crack. Daemon pressed forward, using his greater reach. "You're still holding back!"

  Because breaking your arm would raise questions. Aegon let himself be driven back, carefully moderating his blocks to appear competent but not exceptional. The dance was familiar now - concede just enough to satisfy Daemon's pride while absorbing practical combat experience.

  After several exchanges, Aegon deliberately left an opening. Daemon's strike sent his sword flying, the wooden blade skittering across packed earth.

  "Ha! That's seven to me today." Daemon wiped sweat from his brow, grinning. "You're getting slower."

  Aegon massaged his wrist. "Or you're getting better."

  The flattery worked as intended. Daemon's smirk widened as he offered a hand up. "Maybe both. Come on, the maester's waiting."

  As they walked toward the keep, Aegon monitored his stats:

  [

  CON 3.7

  STR 2.8

  AGI 3.5

  DEX 3.4

  INT 9.3

  ]

  The numbers troubled him. His growth rate defied natural Targaryen development patterns. At this trajectory, he'd surpass adult height before reaching ten name days.

  Aegon lay atop his bed covers after dinner. The heavy meal sat warm in his stomach - roasted duck, honeyed carrots, and two full slices of blackberry pie. He waited until the last maid closed the chamber door before checking his EXP.

  [EXP 12922] floated near the shimmering class tree only he could see.

  Time to advance.

  He focused on the [Gluttonous Child] branch, mentally selecting the upgrade option three times in rapid succession.

  [-5100 EXP]

  [Class Level Increased: 7 → 10 (MAX)]

  His full stomach gurgled violently. A wave of heat spread through his abdomen, muscles twitching as though digesting a week's worth of food in seconds. The sensation bordered on euphoric - like sinking into a scalding bath after hours in the snow. A groan slipped through his clenched teeth.

  Hungry. Need food now.

  Thankfully, he'd anticipated this. The silver platter left on his bedside table still held half a roast chicken, three buttered rolls, and a wedge of sharp white cheese. He tore into the cold meat with uncharacteristic ferocity, grease slicking his fingers. Within minutes, only clean bones remained. The gnawing emptiness subsided as his [Strong Digestion] processed the impromptu second dinner.

  Wiping his hands on a napkin, he examined his updated status:

  [Class : Gluttonous Child (Tier 1)]

  [Prerequisites :

  Have three meals a day for 15 consecutive days (satisfied)

  Every attribute value > 2.5 (satisfied)

  Age < 10 (satisfied)]

  [Level 10 ( MAX )]

  [Trait : Strong digestion

  (Enhances nutrient absorption efficiency by 50%)

  (Grants minor CON bonus based on food quality/quantity consumed)]

  Letting out a satisfied sigh, Aegon focused on the next phase of his plan. Now for the part I’ve been preparing for the last month. The [Create] button, previously grayed out, now glowed faintly in his vision. He clicked it without hesitation.

  A familiar blank text box materialized in his mind’s eye. His fingers twitched as he mentally typed the parameters of his new class. Originally, he had wanted to create a class to enhance his Valyrian bloodline trait, but that would require more EXP and preparation than he currently had. For now, he needed to address his most pressing issue: the unchecked [CON] growth from [Strong Digestion].

  After double-checking the prerequisites, he finalized the submission.

  The class tree reacted instantly. A new branch sprouted from the main stem, thin at first but thickening rapidly as if drawing nourishment from the system itself. A single leaf unfurled at its tip, shimmering faintly. He focused on it, and a panel materialized:

  [Class : Nimble Rascal (Tier 1)]

  [Prerequisites :

  At least 3 instances of evading adults or guards playfully (satisfied)

  AGI ≥ 3.0 (satisfied)

  Age < 10 (satisfied)]

  [Level 1 ( 000 / 505 )]

  [Trait : Elastic Frame

  (5% of all passive CON gain is rerouted to DEX and AGI )

  (Movements are boosted by 2%)]

  Another humiliating class name. But functionality mattered more than pride. This would solve his problem—diverting excess [CON] growth into more useful stats. Without hesitation, he leveled it up to Level 7 in one go.

  [-6000 EXP]

  [Class Level Increased: 1 → 7 (000/1700)]

  A warm, tingling sensation washed over him, different from the digestive euphoria of [Gluttonous Child]. This was sharper, like his muscles were being gently stretched and rewoven. He flexed his fingers, then rolled his shoulders, everything felt looser.

  The trait had scaled with the levels. He checked the updated description:

  [Trait : Elastic Frame

  (35% of all passive CON gain is rerouted to DEX and AGI )

  (Movements are boosted by 14%)]

  He sprang off the bed, landing lightly on the balls of his feet. A quick dash across the room confirmed it, his body moved faster, more fluidly. The excess weight from his [Gluttonous Child] days was still there, his reflection in the mirror remained annoyingly round-cheeked, but his agility had sharpened.

  Good. Now, instead of all that passive [CON] making me grow like a weed, 35% of it will feed [DEX] and [AGI].

  He checked his remaining resources.

  [EXP: 1822]

  Pockets are empty again.

  No matter. The foundation was set. With [Elastic Frame] active, his body would gradually redistribute the excess bulk into speed and coordination. Combined with his controlled diet and increased training, he could now grow at a more believable pace.

  A yawn escaped him. The energy expenditure from rapid class upgrades always left him drained. He crawled back under the covers, blowing out the candle.

  As he drifted off, his last thought was of tomorrow’s training session with Daemon. His brother wouldn’t know what hit him.